


Je suis maudit mais pourtant je vis

by Ukthxbye



Series: Don't Complicate It [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Irene Adler, BAMF Irene Adler, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fights, Greg is Sweet, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft's Meddling, Organized Crime, POV Irene Adler, Past Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Past Lives, Post-Canon, References to Moriarty, mentioned Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Irene cannot run from her past and it rears its ugly face again. But many surprises lay in store for her.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Greg Lestrade
Series: Don't Complicate It [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1301933
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Je suis maudit mais pourtant je vis

9:05 flashed on her mobile, large and white blazing in her dark sitting room. The text that brought the screen to life short. 

**_It's time_ **

Her glance shifted from the phone to the burning smoke in an ornate silver ashtray beside it. She lifted its source, already stained with her crimson lipstick, and the drag audible in the silent room. She needed disassociation like the nicotine flowing in her blood to her brain. If she focused, she perceived every crunch of the ashes as she snuffed out the cigarette and stood. 

Her feet at the door, phone in hand and being dropped in her purse. A hand to smooth her dress. All done with no thought but the door opening to bright sunlight a shock, flooding her thoughts she'd work hard to clear. 

"Miss, you ready?"

"Always." She said it so delicate she didn't recognize her own voice and she frowned. 

Her guard motioned blank faced to the car and opening it, closing the door with a deep thud that made her jump inside.

She needed to get under control. She needed every bit of her intellect and calm to face this new old threat. She needed so much that money couldn't buy. Versace and Louboutin make an armour insufficient, she thought.  _ Should have nicked Greg's body vest. _ The thought made her chuckle to herself but any thoughts of him fall away as in a sieve. Her fingers stroked the embossed pattern along the hem. Designer clothes and jewels used to make everything okay. But money put her here, and its security is a fickle thing. Money sticking the gun to her head once again. 

As the sun skated across the back seat and out of her eyes, something in her snapped. A cold fire and the invisible mask slipped down over her face as the car pulled beside the pavement to a gentle stop. The tremble left her fingertips as if shaking off sand and her shoulders squared. Her phone vibrating in her handbag against her thigh. It was him. But ice remained in her veins burning and she didn't dare a gulp as she approached the door.

It opened as she stepped up. A top heavy blonde man she could put a leg sweep on easy if needed. Small calves she observed as she strode, heels clicking on the gaudy Spanish tile in the foyer. She made the beat linger as she slowed her pace, nodding at each more inept guards with weak knees and stiff necks, nervous in cheap Marks and Spencer suits as she glided by their silent pointing upstairs to a sitting room. 

She'd laugh when she met Moriarty's replacement. 

Across the room she strode past a plain desk, chair, and sofa, checking the windows, large and sealed. The drapes cut-rate and gaudy as well she mused,  _ this will be easier than I thought.  _

"Sit."

She turned at her hip to see the source of the useless request, eyebrow cocked as her lips rose to a smile.

And she remained standing.

"He said you'd be a tough nut to crack." He smiled like her, slight and fake. Much too tan and slicked back black hair flat and greasy. 

"He?"

"Oh... you know who."

"Yes. I do but is his name sacred now?" she huffed, turning to face him with a hand on her hip. "Can your lips not utter his epithet for fear of them burning off?"    
  


He snickered shaking his head as he slipped a hand in his trouser pockets. To his gun she suspected. She scanned the suit with a quick glance but she could see it was nicer than his henchmen. But still it was not Westwood. 

"You like the suit?"   
  


"Well you are just getting started out. You'll buy better once you make a few pounds."

He showed a muted confusion and wounding at her words.  _ God he is terrible _ , she thought.

Boredom kicked in despite her circumstances. Self preservation won for years but the other side of her pressed at the edges. She opened her mouth to try an insult that came to mind but he cut her off. 

"Enough flirting. Let's get down to business then," he said. But she read the uncertainty.

"Do you call yourself Jim as well? And that accent is—"

"That's irrelevant."

She laughed. He joined in an acted out manner, maniacal until she stopped and he paused, staring.

"Never took you for the suicidal type." He shook his head.

"I've always said what I wanted to, should be in the notes he left you." She dared a smile again.

"I could use your... expertise and experience as we get things fired up. Of course, early days so some mistakes made--"

"Rumor is that recent heist didn't go well, and a few other attempts it seems," she said with a deep sigh. She frowned, "Aw did daddy not teach you how to dribble the ball into the net. Keep hitting the post?"

He laughed but words seemed to escape him.  _ Jim never was without a return,  _ she recalled. She half missed it. He’d harassed her through texts and calls quite well but his skills left him in person. 

_ It’s all a risk _ she thought but breaking egos her speciality. Second nature to her. Simpering never her style. 

He spoke with a grin. "You grasp so much... you fucking one of my girls? I wonder did you fuck him too?"

_ Crude as well. Brilliant.  _

"Oh, no one fucked Moriarty. Well... Sherlock Holmes perhaps but only metaphorically to my knowledge." Her grin grew wide.

He lumbered closer to her discomfort. She should have put the desk between them. Her mistake his advantage.

"Then how about you start telling me some of that knowledge then. I mean, I'm just getting started. Teacher," he pointed at her chest, and then turned his finger slow to his, "Student."

She leaned over, "If you really understood Moriarty, you'd never have called me. Or text me. It's useless to bring me here."

"Oh, Darling Irene…"

She moved her head back but his hand snapped up to jaw grabbing the back of her head, cocking the hammer on a pistol pulled from his pocket, shoving it against her temple. She cursed letting down her guard. She dared no struggle now that he get the jump on her. 

"I could put a bullet right through that oh so pretty skull" He drawled it out in his half affected accent words tripping on an untalented and dull tongue. It made her sad to think someone as inept as him could be who killed her in the end.

Desperate breaths threatened her control. She swallowed hard and calmed them to nothing. Her eyes met his.    
  


"You can do anything you set your mind to, right?"

"Yes."

“They entrusted you with the legacy of Moriarty, no?"

He gulped.  _ He wasn't entrusted with shit _ , she thought.

"And yet I live. But you're aware he wanted me dead."

He whispered, "And here I can complete that job."

“Ah," she drawled out the word slow with a pout. "But someone prevented it. Someone you know is on your heels, don't you?' 

"And you can help with that?"

"No."

"Pardon?"

He made the mistake of pulling the weapon back and she took her chance. Ducking she heard a single shot fired over her head and flinched. Every muscle tensed and her ears rang from the backfire. But before he could recover her leg swept into his and he fell, sending the pistol skidding across the slick wood floor. He scrambled on all fours but she kicked him across the cheek her heel digging in. She sprinted to it. With one quick lean over, she picked it up and stood up with it against his forehead. 

"You'll learn quickly that brings the police." It came out as a growl to both their surprise.

He leaned back to sit, and she allowed it. 

"I'm no help for anything besides beating you to completion. Interested? No?" she paused enjoying his breath heaving, eyes flitting between the weapon and hers. "Yes I thought not."

She sighed, her fingers lifting to her forehead correcting hair that slipped during the shuffle. 

"You really know how to get the drop on a man."

"Protecting myself is a personal skill. But you'll find me useless in other things. Thanks for the reminder, after all, a girl likes to know where she stands."

She stepped back, weapon still trained on him. 

"So I'll take my leave now."

"You don't care to hear what I'm offering?"

"No. I wish you the best of luck though."

He put his fingers to his temple like a gun and a soft "boom" sound escaped as his eyes went wide and he chuckled. 

With a shrug he smirked. "You know what? Maybe you're right. What am I chasing eh? Past is the past. Who wants some washed up whore? Delete my number, baby. Don't come crawling back when you want—"

"I only need your assurance I can walk out the building and never see or hear from you again."

"You get rid of the pistol and shouldn't be an issue."

"Hmm. Well, this was enlightening, though I imagine much more for you. So many free lessons. I'll consider this payment in full. Thanks," she grinned wide eyed as she slipped the gun into her purse. He flinched but bared his teeth and she spied him mentally wave it off.

"Good day, Jim."

"Goodbye Miss Adler."

And with her breath held she stepped from the room. She prepared mental for a battle but everyone let her walk as if she were a ghost, barely looking as her heels clacked her way down the stairs in a controlled hurry. 

Only when the heated sunshine spread across her skin outside did she breathe out hard again. But it came in heaves as two fully equipped men with large rifles slipped by her and pressed on her back shoving her in the direction of a car before signalling and more followed them toward the building.

The door to the vehicle opened. A familiar face appeared one that she had last seen in a similar moment. "Miss Adler, would you join me?"

Her eyes pinched tight, but she opened them to find her way into Mycroft Holmes's car without hesitation.

They sat with unspoken thoughts as the tires crunched out slow from the pavement edge. She blinked when the crackle of gunfire lit up muted through the glass behind them. She didn't look back or duck but her sudden cringe showed a fresh mental wound.

"Nasty business when it comes to trading gunfire." Mycroft sniffed and sighed, glancing out the window.  _ As if he were lamenting a rainy day _ , she mused.

"Should I thank you?" A tremor in her voice escaped to her own disgust. 

That odd wide closed lip grin the Homes brothers shared appeared.

"Perhaps I should thank you."

"I shouldn't ask why—"

"And yet that burning question remains."

She crossed her legs with care. He wouldn't notice, and she knew he knew that she knew that. It was for her, always. Actions that set her mind at ease as she slid into a battle. 

"Perhaps I only assumed you keep a close watch on anyone associated with Moriarty in the past." She smiled in her own way, slight and unflinching in her stare. 

"Not as... such. But not far off the mark. It was a more ... recent development." 

Something flickered in his eyes but she recorded its appearance and moved on. 

“Recovered a weapon, and it appears you might get the whole gang. So my invitation for an MBE is in the mail I assume--” 

“You’ll not be arrested. And our common albeit inept enemy will be dealt with accordingly so we may move on with our business.”

"And yet I will be watched until I die I assume." She snickered to herself but a weariness settled in her limbs. She hoped they were close to the end of this ride but she knew better.

He cocked his head, chin up looking out the window, "Perhaps... not my speciality at this time."

He looked at her for a moment and reached in his waistcoat pocket retrieving a small thumb drive.

"This remains active for now. The files all yours. If in the next few days, all clear, you're free to do what you wish with them. They will cease to be part of our records."

Her brows knitted as her jaw opened up. "Pardon?"

"Yes, it is quite like that. A clean slate, Miss Adler."

She shook her head, “I don't believe you. And I'm tired of traps at this point. No one wins in the end." 

"You and I agree for once. But this is not entrapment. Consider it your MBE."

He held it out, steady despite riding in a car and she took it with a tremble too evident in her finger tips. She shoved in her purse and it clinked against the weapon as her mobile vibrated. A million thoughts ran across her mind.

"You can ask why from someone else. I'm merely fulfilling a promise. Besides you do have something important I assume?"

She guessed at what he spoke of. "I do have his gun he put to my head here if you need—"   
  


"Ah yes, Scotland Yard will require it. Though your prints do muddy the evidence some but ballistics do their due diligence."

He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, unfolding the corner slow to over his palm and she laid it in his hand. She stared as he wrapped it with care and slipped it in his leather briefcase at his feet. 

Another vibration against her leg. Loud in the quiet car rattled against her compact. She reached back in her purse and she retrieved it, ignoring the screen as she flipped it in her hand. 

"Please refrain from any calls at this time. Or texts." Mycroft's eyes remained on her phone. 

She held it tight, and the mobile stayed silent. 

"The past is relentless in its pursuit is it not, Miss Adler?"

A shadow passed across his face and he turned to the window as he said it. The crack in his seams showing surprised her.

_ Moriarty? Or... no, his sister.  _

A test. She shouldn't but Greg let it slip one night. She desired an upper hand, and it's all she had. "Greg told me about Sherrinford and your sister... not detailed but enough that well—"

"He should have told you nothing" His voice cut through the air sharp and shocking. The edge of emotions and lack of control took her aback.

She should bite back, digging in teeth all the deeper now the skin broken but something in his tone made her pause.

"I'm sorry," she said more subdued than she expected. "Truly."

His face iced over again but couldn't maintain it as they turned a corner. 

She regretted her test. She wouldn't want someone to do the same to her. 

"I wasn't aware of it until he told me." She sighed.

"That is true."

"Then perhaps—"

"A conversation for another time... Answer me this Miss Adler…" His voice sounded distant to her, and she hoped with enough game they could turn silent again. Her temples pulsed, and she needed a cigarette like air. 

She breathed through her nose. "Am I required to? I can walk if the ride costs—"

He rolled his eyes, cutting her off. "If you insist on being—"    
  


"Myself?" 

"Yes... it is a question we all ask ourselves. Even you and I."

"Ah. We are so similar then? Doubtful. So something philosophical then? Well ... that might be better than awkward silence."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the seat, "What would you do for someone you cared for? What extremes would you find yourself?"

"I'm not sure I understand your line of questioning..."

"Caring for others is a disadvantage, is it not? That we can agree on."

She shifted her seat and smirked as he turned to look at her. "You do not answer for me"

"It's not a battle to be won. Answer." Always back to the point. No fun at all, she mused. 

She swallowed, swirling thoughts crowding her mind needing to suss out his agenda. "It is not an advantage. It often means a sword at your own neck."

"Yes, it is does." He nodded.

"It is odd... this…"   
  


"Hmm?"

She squinted. "You are Mycroft Holmes, are you not?"

"Indubitably."

"And yet you ask me about the care of others."

"Yes."

"Perhaps you're a different man than when we last met."

"Oh you do try, don't you?" He smiled with squinted eyes. "I hoped you are a different woman… for our friend's sake."

She snickered, “What does that matter he and I are just--”

He nodded, “Oh. Of course. It’s simply sex, correct?”

"Yes."

He didn't flinch like his brother at the word. He was no virgin even if he had no interest; she surmised. But a telling smile rose from him and it took her aback. 

"And yet you sit here seething from his betrayal."

She sat up, guarding the tingling under her skin creeping up to a blush. Betrayal?  _ But how _ and her thoughts raced again. Every desire fixated on running but planted to the seat she remained as the car made its way into a roundabout. 

"Ah there it is. Or is it? Oh, Miss Adler. Did you not wonder how I could pinpoint your exact location?"

"But I..."

But she put it together even if she didn't know how yet. Mycroft reached to her phone in her hand, slipping it out and slipped out the battery. He retrieved another one from his pocket and clicked it in.

"Odd to bug me in front of my face" she said with little confidence.   
  


"Opposite in fact. But well this is a lifesaver, really. But it is government property after all. Thank you for returning it." 

He smiled, something akin to warmth, and it disconcerted her. 

"Do be kind to DI Lestrade. I fear he has developed a fondness for your company. Let him down easy."

She squared her shoulders, sitting back with her gaze tracing building lines outside the window. He didn't need to look into her eyes anymore. They would tell an awful truth she couldn't process yet. 

"Why should this change anything? Presumptuous as always. My business is what it is. So is his, I cannot blame him for it."

He snickered, “You’ll forgive my impertinence but I do not believe you and you provide all evidence otherwise.”

She cut her eyes back to him, her voice firm. “Don’t start it’s something we both know how to exploit but experience little ourselves. It’s an equation not a burning flame.” 

“Except for my brother.” 

She bristled and huffed “Unsure what you are implying, my feel—“

“I was speaking about his... emotions. But thank you for being so candid. It nearly cost you your life before. Perhaps you reversed that trajectory this go round.” 

She stared out the window, waiting for a moment of freedom. But tiny emotions bubbled under the surface, something that would grow and rage later. She turned her phone back on.

"You're free to text now if you wish," Mycroft said without looking up from his own mobile. 

"How is Sherlock Holmes these days?" Distraction her only desire. She really didn't care when she thought about it.

"Ask him yourself sometime." Nonchalant and not an answer at all, she thought.

"Just trying to keep the conversation going."

"If you insist on knowing, I expect him to be married soon."

She frowned but pulled it back in case Mycroft looked at her. She suspected he meant it to have an effect. 

"Odd. He never seemed the type."

“Hm? Perhaps... yes. But in many ways he's always been that type. Emotions as we discussed earlier."

Her phone buzzed, and she closed her eyes and squeezed it until her knuckles turned white. She needed to be free of this car before she could face him. 

"Ah and here we are Miss Adler," Mycroft said as the vehicle slowed. "Do take care in all your future endeavors. I'd rather our encounters to be social in nature."

His voice betrayed him. He'd rather never see her again at all. She couldn't resist it, "Oh, well do come in for tea. We'll chat and then I'll tie you up nice and tight, I think you'd like ropes."

His deep sigh through his nose and closed eyes the best she could hope for. 

The driver opened the door, and she stepped out and leaned over back in. "We all have our weaknesses, even you. Even me. Human nature, Mr Holmes. You should try to join it sometime." 

He laughed shaking his head, and she stood up straight as the driver shut the door. She reached in her purse, pulling out keys and cigarettes as they drove away. Her bodyguard absent from his post, assuring his past caught up with him. Once inside she returned to the same seat in her silent sitting room. The flick of fire to the cigarette lighting a candle for thoughts that streamed like prayers. 

She set her mobile on the table face up. The bug he slipped in her phone a concern but really that was business, though she wouldn't tell him so. But the thumb drive? He played a part; she was sure of it. The debt too massive and its amount made her chest ache. She'd never asked for this and its implication frightening. Every time she grasped the edges of freedom, someone cut the hand hold from under her. 

The phone flashed in the dark. She snatched it up, squeezing tight in her grip before she breathed and looked at the screen. 

**_Baby doll, just checking in since I haven't heard from you. Free tonight. Dinner?-DI_ **

Could she just ignore him? He'd lose interest, eventually. They all do. He wasn't the possessive type. He's safe. So safe she could never speak to him again. He'd feel so good in his grand deed and she would...

But anger bubbled, and it required a target. No clients booked. Wouldn't be fair to them anyway, she mused. 

So she typed a message,  **_how about dinner at yours? See you at 7-BD_ ** and clicked send without hesitation planning confrontation in her mind in detail. "If it's going to begin with a bang better to end with one too," she said out loud to the phone, taking one last hard drag of her cigarette before snuffing it out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry took so long. The criminal element was dumb and I just had to realize he was there to drive her story.
> 
> Thanks to friend Rachel and to Mouse9 for beta work. 
> 
> Listened to Left at London's " Oh Maker" which is a fabulous cover. Somehow it became a mood. It's gonna be a mood the next few fics to be honest. And a little of The Tragic Thrills "Persephone"
> 
> Any mistakes are my own or what prowriteraid did not catch.
> 
> More stories to come. What is gonna happend with Greg? Hope to get that done next week since it half written now.


End file.
